Wonder Woman and Superman in Song of a Dream
by NWHS
Summary: A Mother's Day story.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Song of a Dream**

* * *

**Smallville, Kansas**

**Kent Farm**

Clark stood in front of the mirror, blue eyes taking in his appearance. He'd changed three times in the last five minutes, not yet satisfied with the image before him. This time he wore black khakis, a button-up, dark-gray collared shirt, and a pair of well-worn but still presentable black leather shoes. On the dresser, in front of him, was his silver framed, signature Clark Kent glasses. Those would be the last item he'd throw on.

He frowned, still perusing his appearance, eyes and mind overly critical. It was only a date for goodness sake, and this was Smallville. Clark knew better than to make a big deal about his hair and clothing. Diana cared nothing for such trivialities.

But that really wasn't the point. When they went out, she always looked spectacular, even when she donned nothing more special than a pair of skinny jeans and sandals. On Diana, however, such clothing received an immediate upgrade to what Cat would call "casual-chic."

Clark Kent was the master of casual, but he'd never pulled off anything remotely close to chic. No, such elegant and refined posturing was best left to men like Bruce Wayne.

He smiled at his reflection then, knowing his Diana liked and appreciated Clark as is. And hadn't she told him as much on numerous occasions?

Yes, yes, she had.

_So why am I acting like a complete idiot?_

Turning away from the mirror and foolish thoughts, Clark made his way out of his bedroom. Diana would be here soon.

He'd heard the breaking of the sound barrier the moment Diana left Paradise Island. She had slowed considerably since then, but still flew with tremendous speed.

Opening the old but well-oiled screen door, Clark exited onto the porch, eyes going immediately to the sky. A minute ago, Diana entered Kansas air space, which meant she'd be coming into view in . . .

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

A red-and-blue streak bolted through the gray, misty clouds above the farm, flying with a fierce intensity that didn't bode well for their weekend together. When Diana landed, hard enough to shake the foundation of the house, Clark's fears were confirmed.

Three days ago, when Clark couldn't reach Diana on her cell phone or Justice League communicator, he'd known she had likely gone home. The last time that had happened, when Zod had freed himself from the storage container Clark had put him in then Faora from the Phantom Zone, Clark had attempted, without luck, to contact Diana. Unbeknown to him at the time, not only was Diana on Paradise Island, the island existed in some kind of null space that shielded it from all things, including electronic communications.

Forcing himself not to worry when one day had stretched into two then three, without hearing from her, Clark ploughed through each day, telling himself all with Diana was well, that she would contact him when she could.

So he'd followed through with the plans they'd made for this weekend, knowing Diana would never forget their date but not knowing if something would prevent her from following through. So when he heard the telltale sign of her leaving Paradise Island, then the crackle of her JL communicator coming back online, Clark had grinned in relief and expectation.

Now, staring at Diana as she stalked toward him, jaw set, eyes anxious yet exhausted, Clark wondered how a place named Paradise Island managed to be anything but. For every time Diana went home for a visit, it never seemed to be a pleasant one. No happy smiles ever followed, just barely repressed tension and sadness. This time, Clark added anger to his list.

"What's wrong?" he asked, the moment she stepped onto the porch and their eyes met.

"I'm sorry. I know I promised, but I can't stay. I just wanted to . . . I needed to see you, to tell you in person."

That told him nothing he didn't already know, and it most certainly didn't answer his question.

Clark stepped to the side and opened the screen door. "Come in and tell me what's wrong."

For a minute, when Diana glanced over her shoulder and into the sky, Clark thought she would refuse. Then, with far more grace than she displayed when landing, the car size crater she left in the front yard visible from where Clark stood, Diana walked past Clark and into the house. No less agitated for her silent acquiescence.

To his surprise and delight, when he followed Diana into the living room, she claimed her normal spot on the loveseat. One arm rested on the back of the loveseat, while she swung a crossed leg in a slow forward-and-back motion.

Clark watched Diana. Whatever happened over the last three days had done this to her, put Diana in this foul, clipped mood.

He felt his own mood darkening. Not at Diana, of course, but at all the unseen forces that invariably found their way to them, getting between Diana, Clark and happiness.

All Clark wanted . . . needed was this one weekend with her. And he couldn't have even that. He thought this year would be different. He thought he wouldn't have to spend another one alone, reminded of how truly alone in the world he was, now that they were gone. But this year he had Diana. This year, surely, Clark wouldn't spend that day pining for something that would never be again, and having no one to share memories of old with, someone who could understand his loss but not pity him for it because she too had tasted the bitter fruit of loss.

"I'm sorry," she said again, a regretful whisper that tugged at Clark's heart.

Without thought, he moved closer until he sat beside Diana, his hand going to the leg that swung in gentle agitation.

It stilled, and Clark asked again, "What's wrong?"

This time, Diana answered, and Clark was thankful he was sitting.

"The First Born killed Apollo and has taken over Olympus. He rules and the former home of the gods now sits in fire and ruin. By Hera's grace, my sisters no longer slither on their bellies. But my mother remains in her prison of clay. Hera has no explanation, and neither do I."

Clark took hold of Diana's hands, which were warm despite the frosty telling of what sounded like a tale of myth and tragedy.

"And all of that means what, Diana?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, the twinge of exhaustion he'd glimpsed there earlier filled her blue orbs. Exhaustion and a warrior's resignation Clark had seen only once before. _When we caused the nuclear explosion, thinking to protect the innocents by sacrificing ourselves._

"It means I am Queen of the Amazons. It means I am the God of War in truth. It means I must lead my army of Amazons to the gates of Olympus and reclaim it from my insane, despotic brother. It means if I fail, no one will be safe from the First Born's bloodlust and wrath. It means I have to go back on my promise to you, though I would like nothing more than to pretend none of this is happening and spend the weekend in bed with you."

Clark would like nothing more than for them to do the same. But there was guilt in her confession, as much as there was desire and regret. _Guilt for cancelling our weekend date? Or guilt for wanting something for yourself?_

For Diana of Themyscria, Clark concluded, it was probably both.

And her guilt would be greater still if Diana knew how much Clark had been looking forward to this weekend, how different this Sunday would be for him now that he was forced to spend it yet again alone. But she didn't know, couldn't know the significance of that day . . . for him and so many sons and daughters who had no one to share it with, no one to help ease the pain.

But it was just a day, Clark told himself. Just another Sunday, like any other. No need for him to make more of it than need be, no need to share his melancholy with Diana when her cup overflowed with problems much larger than Clark's sentimentality.

"Let me help."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Diana shook her head - vehement. Her stance not at all surprising.

"_My_ dysfunctional family. _My_ war to wage and win. I can't bring you home with me. That would be yet another battle, and I'm not ready to fight that one as well. In this, Amazons need to be united. And that won't happen if I bring my male lover home, no matter that he is Superman."

Clark didn't know what to say to that. Well, there was plenty he could say but nothing worth getting into right now.

For all that he hated it, Diana was right. As a new, untried queen on the brink of war, Diana didn't need her sisters questioning her loyalty or her strength as a warrior. It was a bridge that needed crossing, but not now.

"I don't like it, but I understand."

She granted him a relieved smile.

"Do they even know you left the island?"

"Only Hera and Zola. But I must get back soon. It wouldn't do for one of my sisters to discover me missing, without a word to them."

"You're their queen now, Diana. You don't answer to them."

"No, I do not. And, yes, I do. It is a delicate balance, Clark, and one Mother excelled. I am not her, and I don't desire her throne. But it is mine nonetheless, as are the responsibilities."

With reluctance, Clark released Diana's hand when she stood. The weight of godly and royal responsibility on her strong and determined shoulders. A weight he would gladly help her carry, if he could.

"The First Born," Diana began, the beginnings of a warning in her smooth voice, "is a heartless creature, Clark. If my sisters and I fall to him, you must promise me you will not let him spread his violence and hatred. And he will try to do so, Clark. It is his way. He knows no other. He loves nothing and no one. I doubt if he loves himself. But he glories in pain, brutality, and abject destruction. If I can't stop him, you must. Promise me."

If the Goddess of War and an immortal army of Amazon warriors couldn't stop Zeus' first born, could Superman? And if so, how much damage would such a battle cause in terms of human lives, if the battle wasn't fought on Olympus, which Clark doubted it would be, if it came to that.

Though, from all he knew of Diana and her sisters, Clark had no doubt they would be victorious. But war was war, and there were always casualties, even on the "winning" side.

So Clark promised, unable to deny Diana the only thing she truly ever asked of him.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me." They were back on the porch now, Diana's focus more on the sky and home than on Clark. "Just come back to me safe and sound. You promise me that."

In a movement that seemed more unconscious than not, Diana's fingers slid to the Lasso of Truth. "I can't make that promise, Clark."

Yeah, he knew that. But sometimes, like now, he wished Diana would lie to him, tell him all would be well.

But what she did do was step closer, wrap her arms about his shoulders, and kiss him.

His response was immediate.

Clark held her to him, opened his mouth and let Diana inside. When she came inside, exploring his mouth with tender sweetness, their mutual need exploding between them, Clark knew this was as close to his asked-for promise Diana would get.

And he would take it, with hands, tongue, lips and grinding hips.

Every instinct, every Kryptonian cell in Clark's body screamed at him to never let this woman go, to carry her inside and up to his bedroom, keeping her with him until the danger passed.

The more they embraced, the longer their mouths and tongues danced, the greater the desire to prolong this moment grew.

The kiss was so good, so delicious, so spellbinding that it was nearly painful in its raw intensity. Made so because he knew it could go no further than this, no matter how much they ached for each other, for the time alone they desperately deserved, and for the intimacy they relished.

Just when Clark had decided to claim more than Diana's sultry kisses, she pulled away, leaving her breathless and him hard.

Then, without a word, Diana jumped into the evening sky. Once again breaking the sound barrier, having made no verbal promise. But it had been there in her kiss. Oh, yes, it had most certainly been there.

Clark watched her retreating form before turning and going back into the house. It was Friday night, and he was alone. Not at all how he planned this weekend. But he'd managed this weekend in years past. Why should this year be any different?

Slumping onto the loveseat, in the same spot where Diana had sat, Clark knew he was only fooling himself. He hated this weekend, especially Sunday. But what was a son to do when he had no mother to spend Mother's Day with or a girlfriend to help him drown out the pain of a son's loss and loneliness?

With that depressing thought, Clark closed his eyes and willed the weekend to be quick and merciful.

* * *

**The Dream World of Morpheus**

Diana landed on the acres of rolling knolls between the River of Forgetfulness and the River of Oblivion. Forty feet in front of her was a cave where the god she sought slept. In front of the cave, as expected, were three snarling Gryphons. Despite the vicious snaps from their dangerous jaws, they were beautiful creatures. The body, tail, and back legs of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle with an eagle's talons as its front feet, the protectors of this world would frighten off most uninvited visitors.

Though Diana was indeed uninvited, she was not most visitors. The man inside would see her, Gryphons or no.

She stepped forward, placing one determined foot in front of the other until she reached the mouth of the cave. The Gryphons surrounded her, their towering, massive bodies an intimidating shield of flesh and fur.

Diana lifted into the air, placing her body by their large snouts. With one hand, she reached for the creature closest to her, its fangs sharp and forbidding.

She touched him, ran a single finger then three over the bridge of his nose. Then, with her other hand, she did the same to the Gryphon to the left of her – caressing and smoothing down ruffled fur.

A whine sounded behind her, the Gryphon she'd had too few hands to play court to. Turning, she met the beast's eyes, then said, "You guard your master and his family well. Do not think I have forsaken you." Then both of Diana's hands were on the third sentinel, playing with him as she'd done the other two.

He raised his head so she could scratch the underside of his neck, a rough purr coming from him when she did.

Then she was back on the ground, surrounded, this time, by sitting Gryphons, patiently awaiting their turn to be petted and adored.

When a rustle was heard from behind the Gryphons, the beasts parted. Two took up position at each side of the cave entrance, while the third took to the air, resuming his patrol of the land.

"You distract my beasts from their duty, Diana of Themyscria, and interrupt my slumber. A princess should have better manners than what you've exhibited thus far."

The scold was well-deserved and not entirely unexpected.

Diana met eyes that held countless years and wisdom, though the body was that of a teenage boy no older than Kon. Tanned skin, raven hair and dark wings at rest, Morpheus was a beautiful god, though not a particularly welcoming one.

"So it is true. War is dead, and you are now our protector. Is that why you are here, daughter of Zeus? In a place where only gods are allowed, to seek my help with the war effort?"

Morpheus and his brothers, while powerful in their own way, were no warriors. If they found themselves before the First Born and his army of hyena men, they would only serve as fodder for the cause. No, Diana was not here for that reason.

"I'm here for a much more banal reason, Morpheus. I believe gods should do that which they excel, to which they are born."

"And do I not strike you as a warrior, Amazon? Your continued insults abounds. You are clearly your father's progeny, for I credited Hippolyta with raising a daughter who respected her gods."

Hippolyta had. But this pointless conversation had little to do with respect, or at least Diana's respect for Morpheus.

"And do you, Morpheus, not recognize when you are in the presence of your equal?"

Black eyes flickered with sleepy anger, then just as quickly disappeared.

Diana wasn't there to stroke a Greek god's fragile ego. If she hadn't stopped by her house to grab a few supplies for herself, Hera, Zola, and Zeke, Diana would not have known the importance of this Sunday and why Clark had looked so disappointed when she'd cancelled their weekend together.

It wasn't unusual for them to cancel dates, such was the life of superheroes. Neither complained nor got upset. They understood their lifestyle. That was one of the perks of dating another superhero. But this time had been different. Clark's reaction, while understanding, held an undeniable scent of sadness Diana hadn't understood until she'd watched a few minutes of the six o'clock news.

Sunday, May 11th was Mother's Day. She'd heard of the holiday, like so many other customs and traditions, since leaving home. But, also like so many of them, Diana had paid them little attention, and she certainly didn't celebrate or acknowledge them in any form or fashion. This past Christmas was the first time she'd celebrated that particular holiday and only because she knew it meant a lot to Clark.

With Mother's Day, however, he hadn't mentioned it to her, but he had, in retrospect, made a big deal about them spending this particular weekend together. Back then Diana hadn't comprehended why, now she believed she did.

And while Diana's own mother was a clay statue, Diana at least knew that was a temporary state, although she had no idea how temporary it would be. For people like Clark and Bruce, however, the deaths of their mothers was permanent. They could hold out no such hope of their eventual return.

The realization had saddened Diana, then left her feeling guilty and useless. As much as she had wanted to turn around and return to the Kent farm, Diana had known she could do nothing of the sort. As much as she loved Clark, and she did love him, despite having failed to tell him so, her love life and his grieving paled in comparison to what lay before her. The First Born threatened all of humanity, not just the gods.

So while Diana could not be with Clark, she'd thought of one way she could give him and Bruce peace of mind during this trying time . . . during this Mother's Day.

"You never were one to cower before your betters. I have no doubt that's all the Amazon Queen's doing. But, of course, you are right. So, if you aren't here to press me into service, why have you darkened my realm and stolen my pets' loyalty?"

Morpheus was the grumpiest of gods when his sleep was interrupted. And if she thought he would permit it and the Amazons wouldn't mind, Diana would love to take one of his Gryphons home with her. They did make for the best of pets.

"No!" he said firmly. "I can see the avarice in your blue eyes. They are mine, no matter how much they may whine for your feminine attention."

"Are you fully awake now?"

"I'm getting there, young one. We can banter a few minutes more. That will surely bring me into full wakefulness. There's no better blade to a god's tender ego than a spirited Amazon. And you, Diana of Themyscria, are as spirited as they come."

"And you, Morpheus, smell of the seed of the poppy."

"Ah, yes, well, you did pull me from my bed." Stretching his thin, lithe body, Morpheus smiled at Diana, genuine and more handsome than a god had a right to be.

"Whose dreams do you wish me to slip into?"

"Clark Kent's and Bruce Wayne's."

An arched eyebrow met her request, then a lascivious lift of lips. "Two men, Diana? Perhaps you aren't as young and innocent as I'd thought. Does your mother know?" He tapped his chin, voice full of mocking humor when he said, "Surely not, since the males yet live."

Yes, well, dammit, she'd gotten what she wanted – a wide awake God of Dreams who thought himself humorous.

"It's almost Mother's Day, but their mothers have passed on. They still grieve, like any good son would. I wish them peace of heart, soul, and mind. But left to their own devices, they will have none."

Morpheus nodded his understanding. While Diana's knowledge of holidays was woefully lacking, the God of Dreams knew all, from every culture throughout the ages. When people slept, they dreamed. And when they dreamed, Morpheus and his brothers, Phobetor, Phantasus, and Ikelos, were there.

"Not Phobetor," she said. "They will have nightmares on their own. They don't need Phobetor creating more."

"You must think me dimwitted, Diana. Phobetor has his place, but never on Mother's Day." The naughty smile was back when he asked, "So, two men?"

"They are friends and colleagues."

Morpheus stepped closer, although Diana never saw the god move. One minute he was thirty feet away, and the next right beside her.

She stifled her instinct to reach for her sword. Instead, she met his unflinching gaze.

"Show me the truth or I go back to sleep and you go home."

Diana knew what Morpheus wanted from her. An exchange – one dream for two. She would owe the dream god.

He knew it.

So did she, but was she willing to pay the yet known price?

Lowering herself onto one knee, Diana bent her head.

A fatherly hand came to rest atop her crown of hair. That was all she felt, but she knew he probed her mind with his godly power, scouring for the secret dream she buried deep within.

When he had it, when Morpheus gorged himself on Diana's most intimate, most sacred dream, his hand lifted from her head.

She stood, and their eyes met once more.

"Not two," he said, ageless wisdom and godly power having turned his eyes a majestic sapphire. "Only one. The. One."

Diana nodded, unable to voice the truth, even to the god who now knew her most precious secret, her wish for a future that might never come to pass.

"No mortal, no matter how strong and brave, is worth the love and loyalty of a god. And your dream, Diana . . . Are you sure?"

"You saw. You know. But a dream is just that – a hope, a wish, a desire that might never see reality. One of Phantasus' unreal dreams."

Diana lifted into the air, needing to free herself from Morpheus's too knowing gaze. He would do as she'd asked. Her down payment enough to secure his aid, though not enough to secure his silence. But dream gods rarely shared what they saw in the dream of others.

"Thank you, Morpheus."

"Thank you, Goddess of War. We old gods don't say that nearly enough. And for what you are about to do for all of us, a simple thanks is subpar gratitude indeed." He waved as she lifted farther into the sky, flying away from the Dream World of Morpheus.

When Diana fell asleep that night, the beat of war drums a warrior's lullaby, she realized how truly indebted she was to Morpheus.

_Once in the dream of a night I stood_

_Lone in the light of a magical wood,_

_Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;_

_And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,_

_And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,_

_And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed_

_In that magical wood in the land of sleep._

"How?" Clark said, when he she walked into his dream.

She placed a loving hand on his shoulder. "I'll explain later."

Diana knelt beside Clark, then laid the single red rose she held in her hand on the tombstone in front of Clark.

Clark smiled, cleared his throat, and made the introductions.

"I thought I'd never get to do this. Ma, this is Diana of Themyscria. Diana, this is my mother, Martha Kent . . ."

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

"Song of a Poem" was written by Sarojini Naidu. Happy Mother's Day.


End file.
